


Moments of Destiel

by flutterby_cupcake_26



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, 30 Days of Destiel, Destiel Daily Drabble, Drabble Collection, M/M, Tumblr: otpprompts, otp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:34:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4601784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flutterby_cupcake_26/pseuds/flutterby_cupcake_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles based on the list by Luciferious on tumblr. Writing as a challenge against Cliophilyra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1 - Hands

There were many parts of Dean Winchester that Castiel cherished, both physical and spiritual. Those delicate green eyes framed by lush eyelashes, those lips that were fuller on the bottom than on the top. The way his big heart shone through his gruff persona, and his unending loyalty for those who had a place in that big heart.

Of course Castiel kept this information to himself. Dean didn’t often engage in conversations about his assets. He didn’t often engage in conversation. It seemed out of place for Castiel to tell him at random intervals that he smelt like candy, or that his biceps looked particularly firm when he was adjusting something in his car.

There was only one way that Castiel could show Dean what he was thinking. One way he could express his fondness without causing too much friction. Dean would let him hold his hand, mostly in the car when Sam wasn’t there, but every now and again when they were walking close together there would be a brush of knuckles, a finger stroking down a palm, and then everything would resume as normal.

Castiel had looked it up, when Dean and Sam were otherwise occupied, the validity of a connection told between hands. From what he could surmise, it was a gesture of intimacy, a mark of possession. They were having a relationship through ten small appendages. At least, he hoped that they were.

He found himself obsessed with the idea of their unspoken connection, and one night when Dean and Sam had gone to sleep, he crept closer to his favourite hunter - his favourite human - and bent down, studying Dean’s hands. They were slightly curved as they rested on the mattress, palm down. There was dirt ingrained under his nails, and hair creeping all the way up to his knuckles. Castiel traced the back of Dean’s hand softly with a finger, and slowly turned it over, looking at the light-pink, soft fleshy side. There were callouses on his fingers, and some rough, flaky skin on the pad below his thumb, but Castiel only embraced these details, the ones that made Dean’s hands his, the ones that sent his heart racing every time they touched him.

He trailed a finger across Dean’s palm, and then up along the middle finger. It curled towards him, and he found his finger caught in Dean’s, just for a moment, before it was released again. He paused for a moment, and then traced along another finger, which did the same, before tracing down onto Castiel’s palm, stroking just as gently against his skin. He watched for a moment before looking along the bed. Dean’s eyes were open, and he was smiling faintly, watching Castiel’s progress along his hand. Castiel smiled back, and returned his attention back to where they were connected. Where they always connected.

Of all the parts of Dean Winchester that Castiel worshipped, his hands were at the top of the list.


	2. 2 - Elements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't quite sure how I wanted to take "Elements". Until I thought about how people talk about the weather as 'the elements' - normally in relation to rain. So that's where this OTP drabble came from :)

The day had started out beautifully. Sam and Dean hadn’t wanted to work, instead they had driven to a nearby nature reserve, where they had fished in the morning, and sat by a picnic table, drinking beers and soaking up the sun.

After lunch, Sam had gone to lay in the back of the Impala, while Dean remained on the hood, soaking up a few more rays of sunshine. He had only been alone for a few moments, when a familiar body zapped in beside him, sitting on the hood also.

“Hey Cas,” Dean didn’t even open his eyes, he could just tell who had materialised beside him.

“Hello Dean,” came the standard reply. They spoke no more words, there was no need to. Instead, Dean enjoyed the warmth of the sun against his skin, the light breeze of the wind, and the calm that Castiel’s presence brought.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he was aware of was a droplet on his face. And then another. He opened his eyes, and saw the dark grey clouds expanding across the sky as far as he could see. He sat up and looked at Castiel, who was still on the hood, his eyes closed and face tilted upwards as though he were embracing the change in weather.

“Cas? We should get in the car, it feels like a storm’s coming.”

Castiel didn’t move, as Dean slid off the hood, just as the Heavens opened up and they were caught in the deluge.

“Cas, come on!” Dean called, already soaked to the bone. Castiel opened his eyes, and looked across the car, making no effort to move over. “CAS!”

“What’s the hurry?” Castiel spoke at normal volume, though it carried through the now driving rain as though he were standing beside Dean.

“It’s raining?” Dean’s voice was laden with sarcasm even as he shouted over the loud pattering of rain on the car.

“Yes, so why are you suddenly rushing?”

Castiel slid off the hood of the car, and walked a short distance away, before he turned back to Dean. The light was dimming, but Dean could still see the smile on Castiel’s face, as his hair began to lay flat and rivulets made their way down his forehead. He slowly approached his angelic best friend.

“Cas, I’m human, the rain could make me sick?” His clothes were sodden already, even down to his underwear, and his socks in his shoes. Everything was squishy and dripping. He reached Castiel, who smiled at him.

“You won’t get sick, Dean. There’s something beautiful about a rainstorm.”

Castiel grabbed his hand, and spun around, his trench coat flaring out slightly and splattering Dean further. At this point, it didn’t matter, and besides, Dean found himself laughing at his angel. Before he knew it, he was joining in, half-dancing and half-splashing through the downpour, kicking at puddles and enjoying the rhythm of raindrops on his face.

It ended when he bumped into Castiel, who had stopped suddenly. They looked at each other, pressed close together out in the open, feeling like the only people on the planet. And then they were kissing, and Dean couldn’t tell if the rain was running down his own face, or Castiel’s. It didn’t matter, they were together, and happy.

Eventually, Dean couldn’t even feel the rain.


	3. 3 - books and artefacts

It was a typical day in the bunker. Kevin was holed up in his room, trying to read the tablet, and Sam and Dean were trying to research anything that could help them with the trials. Sam had found some scrolls in the Men of Letters vault and was reading through them slowly in the meeting room, trying to translate them from the latin they were written in. Dean had wandered in to the library.

He was looking through the volumes on the shelves, trying to find some consistency in their arrangement so that he could look up angel lore, squinting at the spines. He had been glaring at the books for a few minutes, before something clicked in his head, and he read the first letter of each title along the shelves. He grabbed a pen and notebook, and wrote down the message, staring at the paper in his hand afterwards.

‘Hello Dean I just wanted to let you know that I am thinking about you love Castiel PS the book you need is the next one.’

He counted the books on the shelf and worked out which book Castiel had been referring to, drawing it from its place and taking it to the nearby desk, where Castiel materialised, smiling serenely. Dean slid the book onto the desk, and touched Castiel’s cheek softly. He bent down, and kissed the top of his head, and took the chair beside his angel, leafing through the pages of the book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so mini!


	4. 4 - Dreams

Since being pulled from Hell, Dean thought his experience in the pit would haunt his every moment. And while it was true that during the day, when he was awake, he was reliving the torture he both received and inflicted on countless other souls; it wasn’t the case when he was asleep.

Instead, he dreamed of a lake, still and serene and beautiful under a crisp spring sky. He dreamed of trees covered in leaves and grass dotted with wildflowers that ran almost all the way up to the shore, only to filter away into sand that quickly disappeared under the glassy surface of the water. He dreamed of a canvas chair that was comfortable under his ass, and held his back like a hammock. A fishing rod in his hand, the bait drifting in the water, waiting for a catch. And occasionally, he dreamed of the being who made this scene possible, who gave him the relief from the intensity of his life and allowed him to rest for the few hours he stole for sleep. The being who looked like a man in an ill-fitting suit and a dirty tan trench coat.

Nothing happened in these dreams, but that was the point. They were embracing the serenity of the scene, enjoying the tranquility that was so foreign in Dean’s waking hours. They didn’t even speak, because what was there to say? Dean could thank Castiel for the break, but he was concerned - in a disjointed, impassionate way, because he couldn’t feel anything too strongly by the lake - that Castiel would take that as an instruction. That maybe Dean didn’t need the sanctuary of this dream world anymore.

And yet, despite their silence, Dean could feel something growing between them. Perhaps because of their silence, because neither of them gave weight to the connection, nor gave it the chance to die. Though they never spoke, Dean knew this being, this angel. And the angel knew him too, he could feel it. When they left the dream lake and returned back to the real world, Dean knew that connection would come out in the way they related. They wouldn’t outright comment on the lake, but it would be a large contributor to the decisions they made, the way they would work together.

Even years down the line, Dean only dreamed of the lake. The worst of those dreams were when Castiel was missing, presumed dead. And yet Dean kept hoping, because his lake still existed in Dean’s sleep. He clung on to the idea of Castiel being alive. Even when Castiel remained in purgatory, he made sure that Dean had a way of resting as he slept, though it must have taken all his powers. It even remained after Dean took on the Mark of Cain. Though they felt the strain during waking hours, they were still as close as ever in Dean’s sleep. If Sam ever questioned why Dean always tried to get a regular four hours shut eye, he never spoke it out loud, and Dean would never admit the truth to him. He just wouldn’t understand.


End file.
